Saturday, June 9, 2018

I Mean, I Don't Know...

Exhibit A
I'm tired.

Right this second, I'm tired of hearing myself pontificate. I'm tired of feeling it (also, I drank some wine over discussion with a friend last night. This may be a contributing factor).

But, like, I love Bret Weinstein. I fucking love him. He makes so much sense. And there are so many other people who make a similar amount of sense and have varying degrees of my affection and/or agreement.

I want to talk about it, I want to shout it from the mountain top, I want to join this discussion... .

But, dude, in order to do that properly, there would be so fucking much I would have to read, discuss, learn, internalize, contemplate, listen to. And, well, I give you Exhibit A.

The fact that I used a fucking bitmoji for that should suffice in disqualifying me. Not to mention a bitmoji that says "I can't even." I'm embarrassed for me.

Only - I'm not really. And, it's not enough to disqualify me. I am a layperson.

I think there is a sweetness to entering the discussion from that humble perspective (for the record, sometimes I disgust myself).

I guess I'm feeling that I sense that I have a lot to offer and that, perhaps, it is my moral obligation to not be afraid to speak my mind.  But I'm just tired and slightly hungover, and I don't want to argue with people that, as it appears to me, are so far up their asses that they're too embarrassed to admit that there's shit all over their face. They're willing to die in denial to save themselves this humility. How do you deal with that?

Product Manager puzzle solver and solution finder me feels in her gut that there is a way. But like my friend Bret Weinstein says, we have to find the z axis in our evolutionary-knee jerk  two dimensional thinking.

It feels like I/we would need to cut through time. As in, we're going to need to use some quantum physics type shit to see what we aren't seeing.

So, yeah.

Whatever. Don't look at me... . 

Work I Manifested

I had a vision, and I set some personal goals. Those goals appeared to just be hopes and dreams at the time, but still the visual of it was in front of me; I kept putting one foot in front of the other. Now, I am here.

I am a software Product Manager. We are a small/medium sized company emerging out of our start up shell.

We have technical debt.

Having started with this company from the beginning as support, I had some really good feels about what customers needed this app to do.

As the Product Manager, I have applied that knowledge (along with a host of other research/designer tools - don't get excited, it's not just me) within the conceptualization of the new foundation of the app; the foundation that throws out the workarounds, leaves the barge sized ship of technical debt behind, and allows us to emerge from our start up cocoon shiny, new, and powerful for our users. 

It's a lot of responsibility. Most of the time, I feel pretty good about what our product team has put together. Lately though...

We're starting production; the wave of developers digesting our (my) ideas, interpreting them, blowing them up, resolving them, and changing them is all Lions and Tigers and Bears - oh my.

I wonder sometimes how I'm going to keep up? How will I rein them in when they're taking complicated liberties over product decisions? How will I stand my ground? How the fuck will I document each step of the fucking process so that we have a trail - this thing is ginormous, even its broken-into-milestone parts.

A friend of mine and I have this inside joke, this project and a different one (that is ready for release) appear to have ended up as versions of what the product team intended. Versions that we lovingly refer to as:

Image result for bitch brian
Le Sigh

For those not in the know, I introduce you to Bitch Stewy and Bitch Brian.

So, there's that.

Now, we're a pretty young product team, we're working some shit out. But, man... this shit is fucking hard.

AND... it's rewarding. 

Work I manifested: To be challenged and feel successful.

I can only hope that manifesting feeling successful is the same as being successful. I mean, I can't imagine the gap would be that big.

Either way... I am here.

Monday, May 28, 2018

Let's Be Honest, Shall We?

I have NO idea if my errant mood is a result smoking/not smoking followed by more smoking/not smoking, but I've just about had e-fucking-nough.

I just can't listen to people. Their ignorant platforms genuinely hurt my soul. It's like everyone's just being loud, arrogant, and opinionated just to hear the sound of their own voices.

I thought I had weeded out my Facebook so that it was safe to go on, but the people complaining about the bike lanes that have gone in to our little downtown core... I just don't get it. It hurts my heart and mind to see people's dark side like this.

I have to go clean my soul.

Same side of a different coin: It appears I'm having some issues living with a boyfriend/roommate in a small, overheated one bedroom apartment (sans silverfish). It appears that I have moments of fierce independence and become absolutely incensed when his routine fucks up mine (and I'm too polite or agreeable to assert my own prior to the mighty clash). I mean, I think a lot of it is the smoking, tbh.

I watched an older woman getting into her car the other day and, get this, I saw the day I would be a single, invisible to the mainstream, grandmother.

It looked so peaceful. 

Saturday, May 26, 2018

I mean, I don't know...

Cartoon me is back. Fun!
Sometimes being alone, without a full time relationship that is, seems pretty inviting; being one of those women, mature of-a-certain-age women that are just good with being single for probably, most likely, the rest of their lives just doesn't seem that bad.

Obviously I want friends, close friends, community, and ... lovers. But maybe I would prefer to live on my own.

Don't get me wrong, everything here with the Greek is great, but I feel as though I've lost some level of autonomy. In the words of people who's words make my skin crawl, me no likey.

Love can inspire romantic illusions that are just so captivating and delicious. They beg to be devoured. And perhaps today, I feel... full. Maybe even a little stuffed?

Now, I don't know about that...

Oh. And, the tickets to Italy are booked. We're going to Italy.

I feel a "fuck me" is in order

Other things I've been a little glutenous about, Jordan Peterson.  Like many other sensible people in the world (or North America), I've become a little obsessed with the guy. He's dangerously almost perfect.

I've never been one to engage with social politics, because I just don't want to donate my time and mental real estate to people who appear to be stuck on a path that is, well, beneath me. I figure, they'll either catch up or live out their lives in a semi-miserable dysfunction that, in the end, they were comforted by.

I did JP's personality assessment, I scored low on compassion which then sums up my above statement pretty succinctly. BUT, when the clamouring intellectually and emotionally under evolved people start freaking the fuck out at each other, panicking and asserting, suddenly stepping on each other's heads to get out of the hole that was in part dug for them and that they then dug deeper, the affects of their actions start oozing over onto my side of fence. Now, I've created a very nice garden for myself and when I start to see that it's in threat of being overrun by mass hysteria disguised as left/right political correctness - the road to hell is paved with good intentions - bullshit.... Well, now I gotta get involved.

The Lord of the Flies kids are getting outta hand and somebody needs some grownups to come in and make some sense of this before the kids choose a volatile leader that promises order but provides or promotes, I don't know, genocide and,  because the tribes can't get along, a let the strong survive mentality.

Having said that, this really only results in me reading, reading, and more reading - and probably, at some point, stirring a pot somewhere. Not really my cup of tea, but neither is letting something that seems dangerous to my children's world, grow and evolve.

Don't fuck with my kid's shit. And DON'T MAKE ME COME DOWN THERE!

So, yeah, passive, compasstionaly lazy me says, "we'll see where that goes."

Tuesday, May 22, 2018

Gentle, gentle, gentle

The period train is slowing down these days. I've approached that station. However, my state as of these last few days would suggest that this missing period of mine is right around the corner. So emotional. Sheesh.

I'm here, living with the Greek, and sometimes it's like waking up from a bout of amnesia, looking around me and saying, "What the fuck? This isn't my life."

And last night, when I was despondent because a) I don't recognize my life and 2) I didn't prioritize sculpting  when I really wanted to start a new project, he asked why - he probed even.

I'm feeling out of sorts, living in someone else's home - no matter how you slice that, it takes some getting used to - and I don't have my own flow. I feel a bit at the mercy of his lifestyle. And it's not that he makes it that way, it's just the natural results of moving into someone else's home/life. It's weird.

And so I was awkward - didn't want to turn the TV on in my boredom (because he is one of those that "rightly so" hates it), which I would have normally done, didn't have a book to read, didn't start the project I wanted to but it was too late now, didn't have a fucking thing to do, didn't want to write or blog, didn't want to surf and endlessly scroll the fucking internet....

So I sat there, despondent. Then he put a blanket on me when I didn't ask for it and said, in that cute voice, "look at you, you're so lazy..." to which I responded (rightly so), "are you fucking kidding me?"

I'm not LAZY, fucker. I'm LOST. STRANDED. AND LOOKING FOR DIRECTION. I was fucking thinking.



After wistfully averting my view (which was, from my prone position on the couch, the ceiling), by resting my chin on the couch and staring out the window, followed by a ladened sigh, he asked, "What's wrong?"

AND I really tried to sell the "nothing" as if there was really nothing wrong, because nothing was wrong, I was just out of sorts.

But he did that thing where he is curious and probed and asked questions and we talked in the way that I always make people talk. In that way that no other partner has done with me.

And the days before, we had spent away on a tug boat B&B and had dinner with other guests and chatted with folks and walked in forests, played mini golf - and it was lovely. All of it was lovely.

And then tears well up around my eyes as I recall this feeling that I keep having, which is:

This wasn't supposed to last, but I keep falling more in love with him. This keeps working, so much so that I imagine a home that we share. I imagine the symmetry that we build, and it's beautiful.

And then I think, "but this is exhausting... how long can I keep this up?"

I don't know what this is. I suspect I'll find out one day. It very well might be joy and not knowing how to let it be a normal thing. Instead, it feels like a thing thing that requires thought and attention and a clear divergence from my past life which was struggle, struggle, struggle.

Also, it has something to do with this amnesia - waking up, seeing my new self, and then thinking about parts of the old me that got left behind - I miss those pieces. I think.

Time to go to work now - to that tech job that I would have only dreamt of having, that tech job where I'm pretty sure I'm doing some good stuff - time to go live my best life. Oh, and there it is, what's exhausting is clinging to this constant wonderment of, how the fuck did I get here? 

Well, I can tell you this FOR SURE, I worked very hard to get here. I just never anticipated it working so well in return.

This... this only proves out the rest of the journey.

Saturday, April 28, 2018

Work. Pray. Breath.

This is where I ask the universe some stuff.

I need some help. I need you to come through me now. Now is the time. I feel the creation inside of me and I need your help to give it form. 

Universe, Gods and Goddesses, please help me find the divine and pull it out to see the light of day.

(that's the word I heard)

That Day I Moved In With the Greek

I'm at my old home, my matrimonial home. I come here a couple of days a week to be able to visit/live with my youngest. I come here to create some level of mom/daughter normalcy in her last years of living at home.

Her dad and I live our day to day lives so differently. The home he creates by way of not creating anything is cold and lonely for her. I don't want that for her. I'm happy to have this time with her when I come up. I'm happy to remind my former life partner that life can be a little bit more warm and inviting, too.

This trip up has been a little different. I've been here for a week while he's away. I'm really living in my hold home. I cleaned up some stuff that was beginning to border an echoing, dirty state of neglect. I made it clean and loved until it sang (this is the stuff my daughter is used to living in. I get that she feels like she went from a garden to a grave). And boy did it sing. It felt nice. For a moment.

My last day here and my daughter has been a way at a concert. My kids are growing up and they are off living their lives most of the time. My last day here and I remembered how lonely I was when I lived in this house and in this town.

I made a house sing with love and joy and shared it with someone who wanted to be no one, and then with no one at all.

I'm here and I'm alone - most of the time.

In the other half of my life, I've moved in with the Greek. The road just naturally curved that way.

I'm going to take the dog for a walk.